


evenings, mornings, afternoons

by dessertarianism



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, M/M, Post-Season/Series Finale, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 03:58:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14512068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dessertarianism/pseuds/dessertarianism
Summary: In which Slaine hates on Inaho’s sweaters, and Inaho hates on the eggs they serve in a top secret, maximum security facility which absolutely does not exist.





	evenings, mornings, afternoons

* * *

1.

Inaho clears away the chessboard quickly and efficiently. Slaine is glad to see it go but his elation is short lived. For in place of the chessboard is a tray of food: rice, fish, miso soup, picked vegetables and even a generous slice of some sort of sponge cake.

“I’m not leaving until you eat everything,” Inaho says.

Slaine laughs, a curt and bitter sound falling from his lips. “You’re going to be waiting for a very long time then.”

Inaho is unfazed. “That’s fine. I needed to catch up on my reading anyway.”

He produces a stack of books from somewhere and he sets them neatly by his left elbow.

Slaine mulishly glares as Inaho cracks open the book on the top of the stack, dark head bent towards the pages, equally dark eyes— _eye—_ skimming over the words.

He is halfway through his three-inch thick tome when Slaine finally picks up his fork. His food has long turned stale and cold but he manages to finish every single bite.

-

2.

Inaho is not cruel. Slaine knows that for sure after that first time he stared him down the barrel of his gun. And he’s even more sure of it after they exchanged a few terse words while hurtling through the Earth’s atmosphere.

But Inaho’s inching a folded newspaper towards him, the front page headline mocking Slaine in block letters, and he starts to wonder about his previous assessment.

The smiling faces of Asseylum and Klancain stare back at him.

“They say he’s a good man,” Inaho says in his usual deadpan manner, but the words are somehow quieter, the set of his mouth painfully straight.

“He is,” Slaine confirms, the two words taking much more effort than he expected.

They don’t say anything else for the duration of Inaho’s visit.

-

3.

Slaine has lost everything. He’s been stripped of his title, his territories, and his truth. He has been relegated to play a villain—to be nothing more than an unfortunate footnote in the annals of history.

The one thing he’s managed to keep peeks over the collar of the scratchy, shapeless clothes they allow him to wear.

Inaho can’t help but stare when the light catches on the dull silver of the chain. If he tries hard enough he can make out the shape of the medallion beneath Slaine’s shirt.

-

4.

But maybe the necklace isn’t the only material possession Slaine owns aside from the clothes on his back.

A quick inventory reveals that he has acquired a stack of newspapers, an introductory book to physics, a slim volume of poetry and several issues of the National Geographic care of Inaho.

Inaho regards him seriously from across their table. “Nina—who’s a friend of mine—recommended this to me. You might like it.”

He slides the first book in a series of harlequin novels towards Slaine.

Months later, Slaine adds a 12-book saga about the torrid love affair of a pirate king and the daughter of a duke to the mental catalog of his “library.”

-

5

“Are sweaters part of the regulation UFE uniforms?”

Inaho looks up from the chessboard to meet Slaine’s gaze.

“No,” is the succinct reply.

Slaine frowns. “I thought not. It ruins the lines of your tunic you know. I can’t believe they actually allow you to wear that. And…”

He trails off, levelling a hard stare at Inaho’s midsection. “You should really, _really_ do your buttons. You look sloppy.”

Inaho blinks at him. Then he blinks down at the v-necked, knitted monstrosity he wore over his shirt.

“I don’t want to.”

Slaine’s left eye twitches.

-

6.

There’s an unfinished sudoku puzzle when Slaine turns a page in the newspaper, right below a blind item about some actress or another.

“I see that you’re leaving me to finish your dirty job,” he says, as he looks up to arch an eyebrow at Inaho.

He frowns minutely. “I did finish it. My pen ran out of ink so I couldn’t write it down.”

Slaine scoffs, “Save me your excuses.”

Inaho doesn’t hate losing; hate is such a strong word after all. But he _is_ predisposed to winning so he rattles off a series of numbers as he points with his index finger to the respective boxes in the square grid. 

Slaine refuses to be impressed. “You could’ve just made that up.”

“I didn’t. They’ll print the correct answers in tomorrow’s newspaper. I’ll show you.”

There are no windows in Slaine’s cell, but he imagines it must be the crack of dawn when the warden sluggishly opens the locks to let Inaho in the next day.

He holds a rolled up newspaper in one hand and a thermos of what smells like coffee in the other.

“Good morning,” he greets him, tone flat as always.

-

7.

Inaho’s opening move is to place a pawn on E4.

Slaine counters with a pawn to D6.

They’ve played games in total silence before, but this game is not one of those.

“You’ve been visiting me everyday for the past two weeks. I find it hard to believe that the most decorated war hero of the second Interplanetary War has nothing better to do.”

Slaine doesn’t mean for that to sound like an accusation but the words come out more sharply than he intended.

Inaho positions his knight to C3. “It’s peace time,” he says dryly, “They have no need for a war hero.”

Slaine can make out the barely perceptible twist at the edges of his mouth. Obviously Inaho finds this entirely amusing. So just to be contrary he retorts with, “There’s no such thing as a permanent peace,” as he places a knight in F6.

Inaho acknowledges the statement with a nod. He picks up a pawn, twirling the wooden game piece between his thumb and forefinger before placing it on F4.

“Well then let’s hope that this one lasts for some time then.”

And because Slaine refuses to _not_ have the last word, he quickly follows up with: “I agree. I wouldn’t wish anybody the suffering of having to stare at your garish orange Kataphrakt during the heat of battle.”

The chess match lasts for approximately three hours and thirty five minutes. (Slaine argues it felt twice as long as that.)

It’s a long, drawn out game, but it’s one the precious few that Slaine wins.

When Inaho admits that he’s in the middle of a compulsory one month vacation, Slaine knocks down his white king with more viciousness than what would’ve been considered as necessary.

-

8.

“Is that an omelette?”

Slaine neatly cuts up the omelette with his fork. “Well, yes,” his tone heavily implying the unsaid _obviously_.

“It looks like it’s overcooked.” 

Slaine cuts up a bigger piece of the omelette and he makes sure to meet Inaho’s gaze when he pops it into his mouth.

He’s rewarded with Inaho’s version of affront.

The next day, Inaho pushes a food jar towards Slaine. The container must have been insulated because steam rises up gently when Inaho twists the lid off. He silently hands Slaine a fork.

He tentatively takes a bite.

And he has to stop himself from gushing about how good it is.

Judging by the smug look on Inaho’s face, he doesn’t quite succeed.

-

9.

“Your tie is askew.”

Slaine has already pushed back his chair and he’s half standing up, hands stretched out in front of him, when he pauses.

Inaho blinks back at him. He gives no reaction to the fact that Slaine is in the process of reaching over the table to fix his tie.

“I was in a hurry this morning. Yuki-nee wanted—”

Slaine waves away his excuse.

He meets Inaho’s gaze, his eyes unwaveringly steady as he resumes the aborted movement, fingers expertly straightening the knot.

He doesn’t draw back immediately.

His fingers linger over the collar of Inaho’s midnight black coat, brushing over the yellow-gold buttons, before settling over the full-size medals that adorned his left chest.

“Something important must be happening if you’re in your full dress uniform.”

Inaho doesn’t mention the commemorative ceremony—the guest list included dignified personage such as Her Royal Highness the Empress of Vers—that Slaine must’ve surely read about in the newspapers he devours daily.

“Well yes,” Inaho says seriously. “I came to see you.”

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted in my tumblr but i was feeling nostalgic for this series so might as well share it here i guess ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
